We All Fall Down
by MaggieMayI
Summary: Kurt Weller's life is falling apart before his eyes. In light of recent revelations, will he push Jane away? Or allow her to help him start again? My take on what happens immediately following the Season 1 Finale.
1. Chapter 1

_ring around the rosy,  
_ _pocket full of posies,  
_ _ashes, ashes,  
_ _we all fall down…_

* * *

The cold metal of the handcuffs encased her wrists with a finality she couldn't comprehend. Tears burned down her cheeks, hotter than the fire she'd just narrowly escaped. The guilt she'd been harboring, the burden of the secrets she'd been carrying, it was all bubbling to the surface – surrounded by the desperation she suddenly felt when Kurt, so consumed with anger, refused to listen to what she had to say.

This was all her fault. She knew that inherently. But she needed to explain to him why… and it was killing her that he refused to let her do so.

He pushed her back to her knees on the floor, hands cuffed behind her back, as he dialed the all too familiar number for backup. She saw out of the corner of her eye that as he mumbled instructions into his phone, his gun was still aimed at her. His eyes met hers briefly over top of the barrel, and the absolute rage that invaded his gaze was too much for her to handle. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and turned away.

She thought she had done what was best… had done what she needed to do to protect him, but seeing where the cards had fallen, if she had to do it all over again, she would have come clean from the start. She was always her strongest when she was by Kurt's side, and she liked to believe she had made him stronger too. But now, they were nothing. Two shells of their former selves… shattered to pieces by her naivety. She thought she could handle what she was getting herself into… it was 'all her plan' after all. Thinking back to her last conversation with Oscar, she shook her head, realizing how stupid she'd been to trust him... and to believe she had any say in how it all went down. They were both just pawns in the game. Her… Oscar… Kade… Marcos… Carter... Mayfair… Weller… all just cogs in the machine. And that machine's purpose? That's what she desperately needed to find out.

The sound of sirens in the distance broke her reverie. Her heart pounded as the tears continued to stream down her face. She was terrified of so many things - the consequences of her actions since she first met Oscar, the thought of who she really must have been before all this, the terrible things she and the others had planned, and, most importantly, of what her friends were going to think of her now. They'd trusted her, had allowed her to operate alongside them… and she'd betrayed that trust a thousand times over.

She grunted as Kurt suddenly yanked her unceremoniously to her feet, her arms still aching from her earlier restraint… and escape.

"Kurt, please…" she pled once more, trying to get him to listen to her, to hear what she had to say.

"Don't," he warned, his voice so low, she knew it was pointless to try again right now.

He led her to the door where they met a slew of CSU agents.

"Bag and tag everything," Weller instructed as he pushed her over the threshold towards the street. An SUV was waiting at the curb. He opened the back door and shoved her into the back seat… an action that caused fresh tears to run rivulets down her cheeks. In all of the times he'd been angry with her, livid at her, he'd never treated her like this before... like a criminal.

He slammed the door behind her, which caused her to jump. She watched out the window as he pointed at the driver and then his SUV, which she only now saw parked a few houses down from hers. The FBI agent then situated himself behind the wheel and waited.

She watched as Kurt walked to his car and pulled out onto the street. Once he passed them, the SUV fell in line.

* * *

Inside the elevator at the NYO, with Kurt's hand wrapped firmly around her upper arm, Jane did her best to keep from losing her cool. She was about to come face to face with her family, with the only people in the world she loved and cared about, and she was absolutely terrified to do so.

The bell suddenly dinged overhead and her breath hitched in her throat.

Kurt shoved her forward and she started walking.

It was akin to that scene in the movie when the perp is finally caught and the valiant savior walks him or her across the floor for all to see. As all focus turned to Jane, time slowed down with each step that she took. Her eyes were permenantly stuck to the floor. She was a coward and she was weak… she knew this because as hard as she tried to meet the stares that she felt from all across the room, she couldn't lift her gaze. She couldn't bear to see their faces, to see the betrayal they felt, to know that she could have, and should have, done something to stop it.

They were nearing the hall that lead to interrogation when a familiar voice suddenly made Jane cringe.

"Kurt?"

His fingers squeezed tighter around her arm, stopping her from walking forward.

"Kurt, what are you doing?"

Jane turned as Kurt pulled her around, both of them coming face to face with Allie.

"She's under arrest, I'm bringing her to interrogation," Weller replied.

"Under arrest for what exactly?" Allie asked.

Her question made Jane blink in surprise. She felt so guilty for all that she'd done, she didn't even realize that Kurt had arrested her without any real, concrete reason. She knew once she started talking, he'd have about a million reasons to put her in jail, but he didn't know anything yet. She supposed the suspicion of who she was now that Taylor Shaw's body had been located was a major cause for concern, especially considering the access the FBI had given her, but that didn't necessarily warrant an arrest, not without concrete proof of foul play on her part.

"For being an imposter, for infiltrating the FBI with malicious intent," Kurt answered.

"What?" Allie replied, clearly in total disbelief. "What does that even mean?"

Her question was met with silence.

"What the hell is going on Kurt?" she asked, raising her voice.

"Don't worry about it Allie," Kurt replied then as he turned Jane around and pushed her towards interrogation. "I've got it under control."

"Kurt, wait," Allie called after him. "You can't arrest her without probable cause. Where's your proof?"

He paused, knowing that Allie had him on that one. He opened his mouth to retort when Jane suddenly stopped him.

"No," Jane interjected. "He's right to have arrested me." The truth was she had nothing to lose. This would be her only way to explain everything. Besides, if they let her go, Shephard, whoever he was, would be after her for what she did to Oscar. Jane no longer had any allegiance to her former life and she needed to convince the FBI that she was on their side.

Allie balked, eyes widening.

"Just give me a chance to explain," she continued, her eyes finding his for the first time since they left her house. The anger was still there, along with a hurt so haunting, she lost her breath.

"Keep walking," Kurt replied as he averted his gaze.

Her eyes found the floor once again as he escorted her down the hall.

* * *

A/N: Last night's season finale was so good! I can't wait to see how this all plays out next fall… until then… I'm going to take my own stab at it. I apologize for this first chapter… I just had to get something down on paper today. This will be a multi-chapter fic that explores their new beginning, so I promise to take more time with my chapters in the future. Let me know what you think!


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Thank you all so much for the kind reviews!_

* * *

 _8 hours earlier_

The stages of grief are a funny thing. They're designed to help process pain, to protect the heart and the mind from taking on too much at once. They function to make tragedies seem more manageable… as if finding out your father is, in fact, a murderer, unearthing your best friend's body, and discovering that the woman you are in love with is an imposter that's been lying to your face for god knows how long – all within a 24-hour time span – are things that are capable of being managed… least of all at the same time.

But Kurt was a manager now – he had the promotion paperwork to prove it – and one trait of a well-rounded manager is the ability to multitask… something Kurt was always good at, which is why he supposed he was processing so many stages of grief all at once.

There was the shock of his dying father's revelation, and of digging up his best friend's body from beneath the hallowed ground that held some of his best memories.

The denial that it was in fact Taylor, despite the damn boot he'd uncovered and couldn't stop staring at.

Anger at himself [always] for failing to protect Taylor, and for letting his guard down - he'd become blinded to the truth of who his father actually was. The fact that Kurt had allowed him back into his life… had allowed him around Sawyer… It was too much to think about all of the things that might have happened.

And then there was more anger… no, rage… at Jane, because if these tiny bones belonged to his childhood friend, than the woman he'd opened up to, had come to rely on, had unconsciously given his heart to, was someone else entirely.

Kurt couldn't even comprehend that last thought at the moment, so instead, he refocused on Taylor. She was right here… had been here all along. The years of waiting, wondering, and hoping she was out there, that she'd come back to him… they were all for naught.

As he stood there by her grave, Kurt's shoes slowly sank into the soft mud, but he didn't care. The rain hadn't let up at all, but he stood there still. The drops fell hard all around him, mixing with the tears that ran absently down his face.

As he stood there he couldn't take his eyes off of it... the boot he'd placed carefully on the ground before climbing out of the hole to call the police. He'd had just enough battery left to place the call, and to call Sarah to tell her where he'd gone… and what he'd found. A fresh wave of tears had hit him as he heard her breath hitch on the other end of the phone… he almost couldn't believe it himself… almost, but denial wasn't going to help him any. Is it okay to be through stage two before you're finished with stage one?

After he'd hung up with Sarah, Kurt had returned to the side of the freshly dug grave and fixed his gaze upon the single boot, standing straight up – as strong against the rain as it had been 25 years ago. The images of Taylor in his memories were so vivid; he could still see her running circles around the tent, slipping on the wet leaves as the rain fell softly around them. But to see the boot again – covered in mud and not nearly as brightly colored as his memories recalled – stark reality set in.

Kurt let out a deep breath and shook his head. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. Oh wait, denial was done. This is happening… so what could he do about it?

His thoughts returned to Jane then, but sirens in the distance interrupted the plan he was beginning to formulate.

* * *

45 minutes later Kurt was in his car, headed back to his childhood home. The Clearfield police had been very understanding in his request to be kept in the loop concerning the case.

The lead officer, Brian Wilson, had been a few years ahead of Kurt in high school, and remembered the Taylor Shaw case well. He'd promised to take every precaution to make sure the department did everything by the book.

Kurt stood and watched as the crime scene unit set up a makeshift tarp over Taylor's makeshift grave and continued to unearth her bones. When the second boot was taken from the ground, his chin fell to his chest and tears streamed unabashedly down his face. When they lifted out her skull, he had to momentarily turn and walk away. Oddly enough, it was the doll that did it… that did him in. The sound that escaped him after seeing her absolute favorite thing in the world come out of the mud, it was reminiscent of a dying animal. Its dress was stained from spending so many years in the ground, but otherwise the doll was perfectly preserved. That last ounce of denial he'd been secretly harboring was officially gone.

It was then that Officer Wilson suggested he head home and that they'd call him with their preliminary findings.

"Can I take this?" Kurt asked, pointing to the doll.

Officer Wilson hesitated, knowing that it would break the chain of evidence.

"It was Taylor's… favorite thing," Kurt all but sobbed. "Her very favorite thing."

Knowing full well it was wrong, the officer still couldn't deny the broken man in front of him. They had a confession to the murder after all.

"Okay," Officer Wilson responded. "Let my guys get some samples and a photo of it first though."

Kurt acquiesced, knowing the officer was going out on a limb for him.

Once the photo and samples were taken, Kurt was led back to his car and he left the scene to go get Sarah.

* * *

He found her asleep at the kitchen table, cheek buried in the crook of her arm. He shook her shoulder slightly, trying not to startle her.

Sarah blinked her eyes open and was immediately in Kurt's arms. The sadness overwhelmed him again, and the pair stood crying and holding on tight to one another.

After five minutes, ten, who knows how long, Sarah pulled back, finding his bloodshot eyes.

"How did you know?" she asked.

"When I went out to get the beer in the garage, I saw the camping gear," Kurt explained, "and I remembered where we used to go camping as kids."

"Fort Boone…" Sarah whispered. "Under the fort…"

Kurt nodded, unable to speak. It was easy, in a way, to believe that his father was capable of murder, because he'd believed it for most of his life. But to see the realization dawn in his sister's eyes… his heart couldn't take it.

Kurt pulled Sarah in once more, muffling her sobs with the cotton of his shirt.

"C'mon," he said eventually, knowing it wasn't doing either of them any good to stand there and wallow in the sadness. "Let's go home."

Kurt took one more glance around his childhood home as Sarah gathered her things. An instant had changed everything. Every memory he had, every moment he remembered, every interaction he'd had with his father since the day Taylor disappeared. It was all a lie, a rouse.

What he wouldn't give for just one more chance to talk to his father… to find out what happened that night… to find out why.

'On to bargaining,' Kurt thought as he shut the door behind them and walked to the car.


	3. Chapter 3

He couldn't help but watch her through the two-way mirror as she sat at the interrogation table.

He'd walked her in there himself an hour and a half ago and hadn't been able to leave the vicinity since.

"Kurt, please, let me explain… this isn't what you think…" she'd begged, with tears streaming down her face as he'd cuffed her to the table.

He'd ignored her pleading. It was the only thing he could do. He was so confused by all he was feeling; he knew he needed to step away. As much as he wanted to be the one to break her down, to get her to confess to all she'd done to him, to how she'd taken advantage of the team and their trust, there was still part of him that couldn't stop remembering the way she felt in his arms… the way her lips felt pressed against his… so he'd left the room without responding, choosing to gather his composure instead.

He shook his head now, because an hour and a half later he was still trying to forget, still trying to erase the memories, still trying to focus on what he needed to do.

'It was all a lie,' he kept telling himself. 'None of it was real.' As if that would somehow magically erase his feelings for her.

No matter what he told himself, and no matter how he felt, he was in too deep. He was too entangled in the mystery. He needed to know who she was, and why his name was really on her back.

The fact of the matter was that despite her not being Taylor Shaw, she was still real. She was still somebody that had come from somewhere, and she'd fought like hell to figure out who she was since the moment she'd arrived. But at some point, something had gone awry. Kurt needed to figure out exactly what had happened.

He watched her as she sat there, shoulders slumped, head bent low. She looked defeated.

The ash and the soot that he could smell as he'd pushed her down the hall and into the room was even more apparent in the harsh light of her sterile surroundings. It covered her from head to toe. He could see the cuts and burns on her skin, the bruises forming on her face, noticed her wince every time she shifted in her seat. Something had happened to her and he wanted to know what.

She'd been silent for so long, his heart jumped when she suddenly started crying. He watched as she attempted to wipe the tears away, an action that only caused the soot to smear further across her cheeks. She was as broken as he was.

No matter what he was feeling… there was only one way to start fixing things. Kurt made to enter the interrogation room when his phone suddenly rang.

* * *

Kurt's words kept playing over and over in her head.

" _It's over. Whatever this is, whatever it was about, it's finished."_

If only he knew that this was just the beginning. She agreed that the rouse was up, that it was on her to come clean, but Kurt had no idea what was really going on, and what would need to be done moving forward. She wanted to tell him, wanted to explain everything, but he hadn't come to talk to her yet. No one had.

She thought how ironic it was, her being there in the interrogation room, how she'd come full circle.

The night she'd crawled out of that bag in Times Square, she'd been forced to her knees, cuffed like a common criminal. And now here she was again. Brought in by the FBI for no concrete reason other than suspicion about who she was and what she was doing there.

So much, yet so little had changed since she'd begun her new life – a life that she now knew had been nothing more than a fabricated lie. It had been merely a play, choreographed by persons still largely unknown, acted out to a tee, and boy had she played her part. They should be handing her awards, not jail sentences.

At the end of the day, she'd become as much of a pawn as Kurt had been, but he'd never see it that way. At this point she just hoped he believed what she said, because a real threat still existed and the FBI was going to need her help. But would Kurt let her help? As far as he was concerned she was the enemy. She'd destroyed his world.

" _He killed her. And I let him back in, because of you."_

The guilt Jane felt was insurmountable. Sure, she had no idea that she wasn't actually Taylor Shaw until Oscar had told her, but that didn't diminish the fact that her actions had put a child in potential danger. Whether it was her honest intention or not, her 'return,' had caused Kurt to make decisions he otherwise wouldn't have. Jane accepted full responsibility for what she'd done, regardless of her knowledge of the situation.

It was her fault. All of it. She'd been so naïve to believe everything Oscar had told her… the lies he'd fed her. But at the end of the day Kurt was still alive, and the team was safe. She'd complied with Oscar's wishes to protect them and she'd never regret that. And Mayfair…

Jane wiped away the sudden tears that spilled down her cheeks as best she could. Mayfair was her one regret. The woman had accepted her wholeheartedly and Jane had betrayed her trust. Jane was responsible for her death just like she was responsible for targeting her in the first place.

'But why DID we target Mayfair?' Jane wondered. What could she have done that would cause an entire phase of the mission to focus solely on ousting Mayfair from the NYO? Jane wanted nothing more to get to the bottom of it. If someone would just come and talk to her…

She jumped in her seat at the sudden opening of the door. Her breath caught in her throat as her eyes found his; their usually warm blue was pure ice.

"How'd you do it?" he asked as he strode purposefully towards the table.

"Do… do what?" she asked confused.

"Taylor Shaw," he stated, planting his hands on the table and leaning towards her. "Her DNA, it matched yours. How'd you do it?"

"Kurt…"

"I just got off the phone with the Clearfield police department. Their preliminary tests state that the DNA of the child they just pulled from the ground does NOT match the DNA samples on file for Taylor Shaw."

Her eyes widened as she swallowed hard.

"How'd you do it," he asked again, his voice so low it was barely a whisper.

Tears silently slipped down her cheeks. She thought of the boy from the pictures Oscar had given her, so happy and carefree, and the man before her, consumed with loss and grief and anger… so much anger. She wished she didn't have to keep hurting him… that her truths wouldn't make things worse. But all she had was the truth now.

"It was switched," she whispered, bowing her head down towards the table, "a year ago. It was switched with my DNA."

She expected him to scream, to shout, and to pound his fists on the table… but the room was eerily silent. She chanced a glance up and when her eyes met his, she instantly regretted looking up from the table.

He was holding his breath, his face turning a deep shade of red. The rage in his eyes was like nothing she'd ever seen.

"Where is it?" he asked then. "Where's the original sample?"

"I don't know," she responded.

"WHERE IS IT!" he shouted as he grabbed her forearms, pinning them to the table.

"I don't know, they didn't tell me!" she shouted in return, wincing at the pain from his grasp. "Kurt just let me explain everything…"

"I'm so stupid," he interrupted as he released his hold on her and turned away. "I wanted so badly to believe you were her. But when Patterson showed me the isotope results…" he paused, shaking his head, "I should have known then that it wasn't true."

"Wait, what?" Jane asked, taken aback by his statement. "What isotope results?"

"It doesn't matter…" he responded, and turned to walk away.

"Kurt!" Jane shouted at his retreating form. "What isotope results? You knew I wasn't Taylor and you didn't tell me? Kurt?!"

But it was too late. The door had already shut behind him.

"Who am I?!" she screamed at the sterile walls that surrounded her, before burying her head in the crook of her arm as dissolving into tears.


	4. Chapter 4

Kurt headed towards the elevator as he reached Sarah's voice mail once again. She wasn't picking up her phone and he needed to get in touch with her. He didn't want to leave, but at this point, he had no other choice but to head home.

"Weller!"

He heard his name being called from across the floor, but he ignored it. Whatever it was, it could wait. Taylor's fate had been in the balance for 25 years. He needed to put her to rest.

Kurt pressed the elevator button impatiently, and watched as the numbers crawled down. The doors opened and he walked inside, pressing the button for parking level one.

"Kurt," he looked up now, his eyes finding Tasha's as she dashed towards him. He reluctantly placed his hand in front of the door so that it wouldn't slide closed.

"Where are you going?" she asked. "Patterson, Reade and I found something very important we need to show you."

"I'm sorry Tash, I have something I have to take care of that can't wait. You can show me later," he said, letting go of the doors.

"It's about Mayfair… and Orion," Tasha shouted as the doors slipped closed.

"Shit," Kurt muttered as he reached for the 'open door' button.

Tasha was still standing there when the doors slid open.

"You've got five minutes," he said before following her to Patterson's lab.

* * *

30 minutes later, after Patterson had walked Kurt through the events of their day, he found himself scanning the Orion files over Tasha's shoulder. It was a giant mess of memos, statements, photos, transcripts and redacted files. It was going to take them weeks, if not months, to try and piece everything together… and that was without taking FBI Director Pellington's order to cease any investigations related to Jane Doe into consideration.

"Where did all this come from?" Reade asked no one in particular. "When Casey Robek mentioned Orion to Jane months ago, Mayfair acted like she'd never heard of it before. Clearly that wasn't true."

"Do you think she was involved?" Tasha asked.

After finding out about her involvement in Daylight, Kurt wouldn't put anything past their former boss. But she'd left this for them, had wanted them to find it. Whether she was guilty of being involved in Orion or not, Kurt was sure there was something in these files they were meant to see.

"I don't think we should accuse anyone of anything until we find proof," Kurt said, clearly not following his own advice when it came to Jane. "Let's just sort through everything and see what we find."

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He lifted it out and saw Sarah's name across the display.

"Hey," he answered.

"I'm sorry I missed your calls," Sarah responded, "I fell asleep."

"It's okay," he replied. "It's going to be fairly difficult for me to get away from the office right now, and I really need you to do me a huge favor."

"Anything," Sarah responded.

Kurt glanced around the room. His team was actively searching the files on Patterson's computer, but he walked to the other side of the room just in case.

"I need you to go into my closet. There's a small trunk on the floor in the back. It has a Cabbage Patch sticker on it. Can you see it?"

"One sec," Sarah responded. He waited, listening to her rustling around amongst his things.

"Got it," she said with a grunt as she lifted it from the floor. "Now what?"

"There are some Clearfield police officers on their way to the apartment. When they arrive, I need you to give them the trunk, okay?"

"Kurt, what is this about?" Sarah asked. He could hear the nervousness in her voice. "Is this about Taylor?"

"Yeah," he sighed in response. "There were some issues with the DNA samples on file from when she went missing, so the police have been unable to positively identify the body."

"Oh god," she gasped. He squeezed his eyes shut, hating that he had to bring Sarah into this at all.

"We're going to figure this out Sarah, I promise," Kurt said, attempting to calm her. "We just need to take it one step at a time."

"Okay," she replied after taking a few deep breaths, her voice sounding more like her own. "What do I do?"

"It was Taylor's trunk, and it has some of her things inside that her mother had saved," he replied. "I can't make it home right now and I need you to give the trunk to the police when they arrive, to see if they can pull anything from it. Can you do that for me?"

"Yes, of course," Sarah responded.

"Thanks Sarah," Kurt responded. "I'm so sorry I can't be there with you and Sawyer right now. I'll be home as soon as I can."

Silence consumed the line. It was hard for Kurt to fathom that his father had died not a day before. So much had happened since then, so much had been revealed, he hadn't really allowed himself the time to process the loss that their family had experienced. He could only imagine what Sarah was thinking and feeling right now – especially not knowing the half of what was really going on.

"Who is she?" Sarah finally wondered aloud, breaking their silence.

He could do nothing more than shake his head and shrug his shoulders. It was the question he'd been asking himself over and over, ever since he'd unearthed that tiny flowered boot. It was the question that was slowly taking over his entire self… that was consuming him.

"If she isn't Taylor, how can she remember the things she remembers? How does she know so much?" Sarah asked.

"That's what I'm going to find out," he replied.

"Oh my god… Weller!"

He turned to see his team all focused on Patterson's screen, Tasha turned and waved him over.

"Sarah, I'm sorry but I have to go," he said. "Call me when the police arrive."

With that he hung up the phone and jogged across the room.

"What is it?" he asked.

Reade, Zapata and Patterson all turned from the screen to see his reaction as he walked up behind them.

"What is this?" he asked. "Where did you find this?"

Her hair was longer, and large sunglasses covered her eyes, but he'd recognize her anywhere.

"Where?" He repeated again.

"It's part of the Orion files," Patterson responded. "Jane was part of Orion?"

* * *

"Wait… so you have Jane in custody? Here? Now?" Patterson asked, clearly confused. "For what exactly?"

Kurt sighed, realizing for the second time that night that he had no concrete reason to bring Jane in. But that didn't mean she wasn't guilty of something.

"She's here of her own volition," Kurt tried to explain. "She said she wants to explain... whatever it is that needs explaining. Clearly there are dots that need to be connected here."

After finding the picture in the Orion files, he'd spent better part of the last hour filling his team in on his day – what his father had confessed, what he'd discovered in Clearfield, and how he'd confronted Jane. He could see in their faces that they couldn't quite believe that Jane would be responsible for everything that happened. But what other explanation was there?

"She's not Taylor Shaw," Kurt continued, "and now we have evidence that she was part of something else. We need to find out what. We need to find out why she was sent to me… to us."

"So what do you need us to do?" Patterson asked.

"Keep digging through those files," Kurt replied. "We need to try to find anything else that connects Jane and this mystery man to Orion. While you're doing that, I'm going to go get her side of the story."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Reade interjected, "I mean, you're kind of close to this Kurt. We all are."

Kurt sighed and rubbed his forehead.

"No, I'm not sure it's a good idea, in fact, it's probably a terrible idea," Kurt admitted, "but I'm the Assistant Director of the NYO now, and technically, according to Director Pellington's orders, Jane shouldn't even be in the building. So it's my responsibility to get the facts and figure out what to do with her. I don't want to drag anyone else into this if I don't have to."

"Do you want me to go with you?" Tasha asked. "In case, you know…"

Weller shook his head. "Thanks Tash," he replied, "I got this. Just call me if you come up with anything concrete."

With that, he left Patterson's lab and headed towards holding.

* * *

Shortly after Weller left the interrogation room, the door opened again.

Jane lifted her head and came eye to eye with an FBI agent she'd never seen before. He'd walked over to the table, freed her hands, and then cuffed them again once she was free from the restraints on the table.

"Come with me," he'd said.

"Where are you taking me?" she'd asked as she got up to follow him.

"Holding," he'd answered simply.

Another agent had met them at the door, and the trio had walked down the hall to the NYO holding area.

In processing into holding reminded Jane of that very first night. Once again she was nothing more than an object to be poked and prodded. They took photos and fingerprinted her. They took samples from her hair and skin; they even scraped the soot from under her fingernails. Afterward they stripped her of the rest of her dignity in order to take her clothes for blood, tissue and fiber samples.

She laughed to herself then, standing there naked in front of two female agents – which probably made her look even crazier. It shouldn't really bother her anymore – people staring – they'd done it every single day since she'd arrived at the FBI. But if Jane was honest, she had to admit it did still bother her. She still felt exposed every time one of her tattoos graced Patterson's computer screen.

Once fully processed, Jane was given a gown akin to those donned in an emergency room, and the same two agents that brought her down, led her to a room she'd never seen before. The room had a door at either end, and consisted of nothing but tile and bare walls.

The door shut behind her.

"Turn around and give me your hands," the agent instructed.

Jane did as she was told, placing her hands in the small window strategically placed in the door.

The agent removed her cuffs. It was the first time she'd been free of restraints since Kurt had cuffed her at the safe house. She absently rubbed her sore wrists as she took in her surroundings.

"Take off everything you are wearing and leave it on the ground," the agent said. "Once you do, walk through the opposite door."

"What's in there?" Jane asked, apprehensive to strip down yet again.

"Shower," the agent answered, before turning and walking away.

Jane surveyed the room once again. There was only one camera that she could see, but the red light wasn't on, which meant there was a good chance no one was watching her.

Jane glanced out the door from which she entered and couldn't see anyone in the hall. Feeling as secluded as she could possibly hope for, Jane reluctantly stripped. She shed the hospital gown and, once naked, she took a moment to survey herself. She could see the soot stains that covered the skin that had been exposed in the barn, could see the ash in her hair. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, she needed a shower.

She covered herself as best as she could as she walked towards the door, which caused her fingers to brush against the necklace that still hung around her neck. She paused momentarily, grabbing onto it. She thought about what the agent had said… he'd said to take off everything she was wearing… but that just meant her gown… right? They hadn't taken the necklace from her during in processing. Would they want it now?

Jane knew she had no right to keep the necklace on; she wasn't Taylor Shaw after all. It didn't belong to her. It was meant for the little girl Weller found buried in the ground.

Jane closed her eyes and took a deep breath. For just one moment she let herself imagine that scenario. Him digging in the dirt and unearthing his best friend – the person he'd been searching for for 25 years. Tears threatened to fall as she let herself be swallowed up by the scene. She held the necklace tight as her heart ached for that little girl, and the man she'd come to know so well.

It was him… he was the reason she wanted to keep the chain around her neck. It didn't symbolize Taylor… it never really had. It was a tether to the man who had given it to her. It was the only thing she had left and she wasn't going to give it up that easily.

Determined, Jane kept her hand firmly on the chain as she walked through the door to whatever awaited her beyond.

* * *

Thirty minutes later Jane was freshly showered and laying on a cot in a holding cell. She'd never been this far into holding, but her current reality pretty closely matched what she'd always imagined it would look like.

Four sterile walls, a stainless steel toilet, a single table and chair, and a sterile bed covered in white sheets that matched her white jump suit and white tennis shoes. Her surroundings were a blank canvas – a stark contrast to the intricate ink that covered her skin.

She knew it must be close to morning by now, but she couldn't sleep. Instead, Jane lay there, tracing the patterns on her forearm, wondering what each of them meant. Her body still held so many secrets… clues left for the FBI that had yet to be uncovered. Oscar had said the tattoos were meant to be easy wins for Weller, but the fact remained that they did lead to a lot of arrests, and they did save a lot of lives. What would happen now that the team could no longer investigate them?

 _The team._

Jane could only imagine what they must think of her, how betrayed they must feel. If Kurt's reaction was any indication…

Not wanting to think on it anymore Jane attempted to shift her thoughts. She thought about Oscar then, and all she'd been through with him. She'd been so quick to trust him when clearly she shouldn't have. Where did things go wrong?

" _I know you better than anyone."_

It was one of the first things Oscar had said to her. In retrospect, Jane supposed he had her hooked from the beginning. Even when she was wary of him, of the mission he talked about, she kept going back because he had information she wanted… information she _needed_ about her past. She let that blind her to who he was, what he was trying to accomplish, and the part she played in all of it. If only she could go back and do things over… if only she had met Kurt at the park that night instead…

Suddenly the door to her cell opened and Kurt walked in.

Surprised to see him, she jumped to her feet.

"Kurt…"

"Sit down," he commanded.

She slowly sat back down on the bed as her eyes traced his movement across her cell.

He pulled the chair out from her table and sat in front of her. He was close enough that if she reached out she could touch him. Jane fought to keep her hands in place.

She noticed then he had a print out of a photograph in his hand. She watched as he stared down at it.

Finally, his eyes met hers, and then he turned the photograph around.

Her mouth fell open as she stared at the photo. She reached out to take it from him but he moved it out of her reach.

She recoiled slightly at the rejection, but rebounded quickly. It was to be expected. She was a prisoner after all.

"Where did you get that?" she asked, still staring at the photo. She couldn't take her eyes off it.

It shouldn't have been her first thought, but she couldn't stop from noticing how happy she looked. The photo had been taken on a bright, sunny day. Oscar was by her side and it looked like they were enjoying a casual stroll down the street. Her hand was loosely entwined with his, and he was pointing to something in the distance. The sunlight caught on the diamond that graced the third finger on her left hand, making it shine.

The photo was clearly taken by someone surveilling them… which gave Jane pause… as well as the fact that Kurt was currently holding it in his hand.

"Where did this come from?" she asked again as she looked up from the photo. "Do you know who I am?"

Kurt blinked in response, and she didn't miss the surprise that entered his eyes at her question. He really had no idea. He thought she knew so much, which in a way she did, but at the same time she still knew so little.

"Who is this man?" Kurt asked.

"Kurt,"

"Is this who you've been working with?" he interrupted. "Is this who you've been sneaking off to meet in the middle of the night?"

"How did you…?"

"Who are you people, and what are you trying to accomplish?" he pushed.

"Kurt, please…" she pled as she unconsciously reached out for his arm. He did nothing at first, just stared down at her hand wrapped around his wrist. His eyes then lifted to hers as he slowly, methodically pulled his arm away.

"I don't know who you are, or what you're playing at," Kurt said, in a gravely tone that seethed with anger, "but don't think for one second you can play on my sympathies any longer."

"Kurt…"

"Whatever this was," he continued, pointing his finger between them, "It no longer exists. Fool me once… shame on me," he finished with a laugh.

Jane glanced sideways, trying to hold back tears.

"So let's try this again," Kurt said after a moment of strained silence. "Who the hell are you, and why the hell is my name tattooed on your back?"

"I'll tell you," Jane replied. "I'll tell you everything. Just please… let me explain. Please, Kurt."

Kurt huffed in response, his eyes drawn back to the photo in his hand.

"Fine," Kurt said, his eyes eventually lifting back to hers. "Start at the beginning."


	5. Chapter 5

"So… should we talk about the elephant in the room?" Reade asked once Weller had left Patterson's lab.

"Elephant?" Patterson said with a confused look on her face.

"Jane," Reade responded while rolling his eyes. "Was she really double-crossing us the whole time?"

"I mean… it's possible," Patterson replied, "but a lie like that… it involves so much. You've all seen the way Jane is. She's always so quick to help, to put our lives above her own. Do you really think she'd do all that if she was just using us?"

"If it ultimately furthered her own agenda… yes," Reade stated mater-of-factly.

Tasha shook her head and turned back to the computer screen in front of her.

"What Tash, don't have anything to add to the conversation?" Reade prodded.

Tasha huffed and turned around to face him.

"We're waiting…" Reade teased at her silence.

"Is she capable? Yes," Tasha started. "Has she done some questionable things that she was somehow able to cover up or explain away? Probably."

Reade and Patterson nodded their heads in agreement.

"Are we guilty of doing the same exact thing?" Tasha asked, looking at each of them in turn.

No answer was needed.

"And look at us," Tasha continued. "We're all still working together to figure this out. I think right now we need to let Weller do his job, and we can formulate our opinions once we have all the facts. Until then, let's get back to work."

"Tasha's right," Patterson agreed, "We need proof."

"Okay, okay," Reade seceded, waving his hands in mock surrender. "Let's see what we can find then."

The three turned back to their respective screens and continued to sift through the massive file that Mayfair left behind.

"Wow, take a look at this," Patterson said not 10 minutes later.

"What is it?" Tasha asked.

"After finding the photo of Jane in the Orion file, I created an algorithm that utilizes facial recognition to sort through the files to find anything that contains either Jane or the man she's pictured with."

"And something hit?" asked Reade.

"Oh yeah," replied Patterson.

Using her tablet she transferred her findings up onto the large screen. Photo after photo of Jane started to hit the screen.

"Wait, go back," Tasha said as a group photo popped up on the screen.

Patterson brought the photo to the forefront. It showed Jane, the mystery man, and four other men, all dressed in NAVY fatigues.

"Is that…?"

"That's the man that was shot in Jane's apartment," Reade interrupted Tasha.

Patterson pressed a few buttons and the computer started working again.

"I'm running all of the faces from this photo through our spectrum of databases to see if we get any hits," Patterson explained.

Seconds later, the post-mortem photo of the man shot in Jane's apartment popped up.

"Positive match," said Patterson.

A few seconds after that, another photo popped up.

"This is strange," mumbled Patterson.

"What's strange?" asked Tasha.

"The software recognized this photo as a match to ours as well," said Patterson. "This photo was taken a few weeks ago. The man was found dead inside a car repair shop in Brooklyn."

Patterson clicked over to the police report.

"It says he was shot and killed during a robbery."

"So how does this guy go from Orion to a repair shop in Brooklyn?" Reade asked. "Isn't their MO to stay off the grid?"

"Do we have a name?" Tasha asked.

Patterson kept reading.

"Interesting," she muttered. "It says here his ID listed him as one Derek Richardson, but Derek Richardson of Brooklyn, NY died 18 months ago in a car accident."

"So they stole his identity?"

"The report states that the police ran his DNA and fingerprints, but came up with no matches. They couldn't find him in the system anywhere. He's currently being held in the county morgue as a John Doe," Patterson replied.

"Sound familiar?" Reade asked.

"First Jane, then the man in her apartment, now this guy. How many faceless, nameless people are we dealing with here?" Tasha asked.

"I think it's time we updated Weller," Patterson suggested.

* * *

Jane fidgeted in her chair. All she'd wanted for the past day was to tell Kurt her side of the story, to get the facts straight. But now that she had the floor, she was at a loss for words.

It wasn't that she didn't know what she was going to say, rather, she was terrified to get the words out and for Weller to still despise her. What if he didn't realize she did what she did to protect him? To protect the team?

"Well?" Kurt prodded, brining her out of her thoughts.

Jane took a deep breath.

"That night, when I met you on the street outside your apartment, when we…" Jane started.

"Yeah," Kurt quickly interrupted, not allowing her to say it.

"Well," Jane continued, "when I left to walk home, I was abducted."

"What do you mean abducted? Who took you? How did you escape?"

Kurt fired question after question.

"Listen," Jane interrupted. "I promise I will answer all of your questions, just please let me first tell you what happened. The whole story. Then you can ask whatever you want."

Her pleading eyes met his. She silently begged him to do this her way.

"Fine," Kurt relented with an exasperated sigh. "So you were abducted…"

Jane nodded, and then walked him through the abduction and being confronted by Carter.

"He took me because he was scared about what I knew... or what he thought I knew. I think he felt threatened by my tattoos, that they would uncover something that he was involved in," Jane said.

"What did you tell him?" Weller asked.

"Nothing," Jane replied. "I didn't know anything more than you did at that point."

"But you do now," Weller stated.

Jane chose not to respond to that.

"While he was torturing me I had a memory flashback," she continued. "I was wearing a NAVY uniform and walking down a hallway. I passed by Carter as he was talking to another man. I heard him say the words 'The project is called Orion.' After the flashback I asked him what Orion was, but he wouldn't tell me. He seemed genuinely surprised that I knew the name at all."

"What is Orion?" Kurt asked.

Jane just glared back at him.

"Right, right, keep all my questions to the end," he replied. "Keep going then."

"Carter wasn't happy with the results he was getting, so he moved to more… extraordinary measures…" Jane could still hear the whirl of the drill as he brought it down to her shoulder. "But before he could do anything more to me, gunfire in the vicinity stopped him. He went to investigate, and that was when he was shot."

"So you didn't kill Carter," Kurt stated.

Jane shook her head no.

"Please state for the record whether you did or did not kill CIA Deputy Director Thomas Carter."

"I didn't kill Carter," Jane replied.

"Who did?"

Jane paused, then pointed at the man in the photo.

"Who is he?" Kurt asked.

"His name is Oscar," Jane answered.

She proceeded to tell him about Oscar shooting Carter, showing her the video and ultimately letting her go.

"I didn't believe it, I couldn't," Jane tried to explain. "It was me, but it wasn't. This strange woman was telling me that this whole thing was my idea, and I couldn't remember any of it. It was incomprehensible."

"Why didn't you come to us immediately when this happened?" Kurt asked.

Jane laughed.

"I ask myself that question every single day," she admitted, breaking eye contact with Kurt to watch her fingers fiddle in her lap.

"I think I was afraid."

"Of what?"

"That it was true," Jane said, shrugging. She brought her eyes back to his. "Since the day I met you, I've been trying to figure out who I was… who I am. Every time I get a glimpse of my past, or a clue from one of the cases we catch, I don't like what I see. You told me not long after we met that you thought I was a good person. And I wanted to believe it… but I wasn't… I'm not."

She sighed, turning her eyes towards the ceiling.

"I was so frustrated at the not knowing, at all the gaps I couldn't fill in. I didn't want to trust Oscar, I didn't want to go along with the plan, but it was the only way I could figure out who I was. I _needed_ to know. If I had told you then, chances are I would have never seen Oscar again… I needed to know," she repeated again.

"Did you find the answers you were looking for?" Kurt asked.

Jane's eyes returned to his.

"I found answers," she replied, "but not the ones I was looking for."

Kurt broke eye contact with Jane to stare down at the photo in front of him.

"Okay," he said after neither had spoken for almost a full minute, "what happened next?"

Before Jane could continue her story, there was a knock on the door.

"Yeah," Kurt said.

The door opened and Jane was surprised to see Patterson on the other side. She straightened up, waiting to hear what she had to say.

"Weller… we found something we think you should see," Patterson said reluctantly, backing out of the doorway.

"Okay," Kurt sighed, standing up.

Before exiting he turned back towards Jane.

"We'll pick this up when I get back," he said.

She nodded, and watched the door close behind him.

* * *

Ten minutes later the door opened and Kurt practically shoved another photo in her face.

"Who is he? Do you know this man?"

Jane shrunk backwards, partly to get away from Kurt, and partly to see the photo clearly. When she focused in, her eyes widened once again in surprise. It was the post mortem photo of Danny.

"How did you get this?" she asked, surprised that the FBI had made the connection between her and Danny.

"Do you know him?" Kurt pushed.

"Not really," Jane replied. "I only met him once, and it was a very brief meeting."

This time when she reached for the photo, Weller let her take it.

"Who is he?" Kurt asked, more softly this time as he watched her eyes pour over the photo.

"His name is… was Danny," Jane replied eventually, handing the photo back to Kurt. "He helped Oscar and I once. I think he was part of the group that formulated the plan… my plan… but I didn't get a chance to find out."

"Why?" Kurt asked.

"He was killed," Jane replied, her eyes finding the floor, "because of me."

"I don't understand," said Kurt.

Jane's eyes returned to his.

"You will," she replied.

Neither spoke. He took the time to study her for a brief moment. His rage still simmered at the surface, but he couldn't help but notice how terrible she looked. How defeated. Not in the way that a criminal looks defeated when they get caught, but rather that she'd lost everything… and it had all been for nothing.

"Okay," he sighed eventually, trying not to let her demeanor get under his skin. He vowed to remain strictly professional. "Keep going."

But before Jane could start talking, everything went dark.

* * *

 _Sorry for the gap in posts… it's been quite busy lately! But hey… we have the whole summer, right? Thank you again for all your kind reviews._


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